The Message
by Victoria Quynn
Summary: The boys attempt to deliver a message during the holiday season. Thanks and apologies to Bret Harte.


The Message

"Been a bit o' time since the baby was born, but he's no babe no more, nosiree! All growed up is he. That's right, I tell ya, all growed up."

"Baby?"

The grizzled old man looked askance at the younger. "Yesiree, he ain't no babe no more. Young man, you ain't gonna tell me no different."

"Old man, we ain't ..."

"That's what I said, you ain't gonna tell me nothin' o' that."

Hannibal Heyes shared a glance with his partner. Kid Curry's brow furrowed.

"Look, we're only here to deliver a message, not to argue anything with you, Mr. ...?"

The visage below thick eyebrows skeptically eyed the pair. "Message? Ya know the name! Now what have ya to say? Speak up!"

Blue eyes narrowed. "Told ya already. We're here to deliver a message to a Mr. Thorne. Are you him?"

"That might be me. Who's askin'?"

Heyes sidestepped a saliva bomb aimed at his boot - unsuccessfully. He looked downward in disgust. His partner raised a brow, barely stifling a grin.

"Now no need for that, Mr. ... whoever you are. The name's Smith. This here's my partner, Jones. We're here to deliver a message to a Noel O. Thorne. Are you him?"

"Told ya, young fella, might be, might not be. How'd ya happen on me?"

"Like we told you, the sender told us where to find you - well, one of a few places you might be. The first couple didn't pan out, but here you are."

The old man stood, his stooped shoulders still massive despite his lack of height. "Who'd've wanted to get in touch with Ol' Oakie here? No one'd wanna bother with me."

His harsh tone set two pairs of ex-outlaw eyes questioning.

"No one needs to know 'bout me, nosiree! You two'd best take your business somewheres else." He turned.

"Wait! Mr. ... Oakie, is it? Like we told ya, we're not tryin' to bother ya; just tryin' to deliver a message is all." Kid's tone was conciliatory. "You take it and sign for it - that's all we want. We'll be glad to leave ya alone."

The old man faced them. "That's all ya be wantin', like ya just said?"

"That's right."

"Who'n's the message from?"

Heyes sighed, "Same as before, Thomas Christmas."

"Ol' Tom!? Now why didn't ya say so? Now there was a babe if there ever was one ..."

"Um, you told us." Heyes' tone lacked patience.

"Yeah, he's all grown up, huh?" Curry chimed in.

Oakie smiled. "Damned tootin'! And a wonder babe he was, survivin' in the cold there without his mama. She delivered him herself. Miracle he was. We named him for the day. She didn't last the night."

"And you ..."

"And we all kinda raised him up, right as rain. Imagine, a baby and a bunch'a cussin' miners in a camp up the mountains - Californy, ya know?"

"Well, Mr. Oakie ..."

The old man fixed stern eyes on Curry. "Boy, didn' yer mama learn ya no manners? It ain't polite to interrupt! That's what we learned Ol' Tom. Right as rain he growed up, too. Did I tell ya that?"

Two ex-outlaws nodded. Heyes started, "Now, Oakie, are you ..."

"So I told ya that. That's good. Now, ya see, we took turns takin' care o' the babe. Bein' 'round him kinda cleaned us all up; kinda made us better men, I s'pose. Cain't have no babe growin' up the likes o' the way we was, nosiree."

Spittle found Curry's boot this time. He smirked at Heyes, but stayed silent.

"Nope, we's all become better men 'cause of a babe. Who'd'a thought? And we seen him raised up good. Well, I mean, the men, they came and went, but I stayed longer 'cause o' him, so I's more a pa to him 'cause we shared a birthday, and my own ma named me for it. Noel Oakes Thorne - yep, that's me." He stood matter-of-factly before them. "Each Christmas we spent celebratin' three birthdays - me, the boy, and Jesus. Well, none o' us was church-goin' men or nothin', but in our own way mebbe we ... well, on one day we put aside our diggin' and did a lil' observin' the right way 'cause o' the boy - glad tidin's and all that. Sort of a tradition, ya know? We tried to do right by him."

Curry nodded. "Yes, sir."

Heyes pulled a pencil from his pocket. "Now, Mr. Thorne - Oakie - if you'll just ..."

"And he growed up all fine, despite it all. He had the whole camp to call pa, but nary a ma. That went lackin'."

"Umm, Oakie?"

"That's what I'm known as, boy. What can I do fer ya?"

The partners did their best to be patient. Heyes offered the pencil. "If you'd just sign here, we'll hand over the message and be on our way."

"Message? What message?"

Curry's brow furrowed yet again. "The one we're tryin' to deliver to ya."

The old man's countenance grizzled. "Now who'd wanna be in touch with the likes o' me after all these years?"

The partners' eyes met. Heyes spoke, "Ol' Tom's a rich man now in San Francisco. He knows someone we know and hired us to deliver this message. We can give it to you once you sign for it. It's Christmas Day, and from what you said, maybe a happy birthday is in order, for you and him."

Oakie's brows raised. His countenance lit up. "Did I hear ya right, young fella? It's Christmas? Today? Time just goes by with nary a sign in this old shack, and town ain't no different."

Heyes nodded. "That's right."

"Ol' Tom?"

"Uh huh."

"A rich fella?"

Kid chimed in. "Yep. Said he would've come himself but for some business and not knowin' just where to find ya."

"What's on the paper? Never could read real good."

Heyes indicated the message and opened it when met with a nod from the old man. He read,

"Dear Pa Oakie,

At this time of year, my thoughts turn to you and all the other men from the camp. I am sorry I have not kept in touch as I should have through the years; however, I have made discreet inquiry through mutual acquaintances and have heard you are well and living in one of several places (said acquaintances could not be sure who was whom of the many men who raised me).

I hope you do not think it forward of me to contact you after so much time. It has been too long but you in particular are never far from my thoughts. When the bearers of this message find you, I should like to visit, if you will allow it, and hope you will return with me to San Francisco to live with me here. Please give it some thought. I shall contact you forthwith, hopefully in time to celebrate our mutual birthday together.

Fondly and with much affection,

Your son,

Thomas Christmas"

Heyes' voice trailed off. He regarded the old man. Oakie stood mesmerized, a tear trailing down his cheek. His voice broke a little as he spoke, "The boy wants to return for me? He's made a good life for hisself. There's no place for me in it."

Kid smiled. "Oakie, sounds like he wants to take care of you like you did for him."

Heyes handed him the pencil. "Yep, a gift, just in time for Christmas. Now, Oakie, if you'll just sign right here, we'll wire him that we found you and he can get started on his trip here."

The old man looked at them. Pencil in hand, he made his mark where Heyes indicated. "Now, did I tell you two'n 'bout that babe we found on Christmas Day so many year'n ago ..."


End file.
